Good Enough
by song-of-a-nightowl
Summary: Set right after the end of "Manhattan". Emma and Neal talk about their family. Written before "The Queen Is Dead".


Neal has been outside with Henry for a while. Emma settles herself on Neal's couch while she waits, but Mr. Gold is more impatient. He paces and mutters to himself and taps his cane along the floor. After about ten minutes, he finally leaves the apartment. Emma can't say that she's sorry to see him go.

A few more minutes pass. Neal comes back in through the window; Henry stays outside. Emma can see her son sitting on the steps of the fire escape with his knees tucked into his chest. She wonders briefly whether she should go talk to him, and then she looks up at Neal.

Neal is standing in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped forward. It's obvious he has no idea what the hell he's doing; Emma knows the feeling.

Neither of them say anything. The silence presses in on Emma, anticipatory and waningly hostile. She had a thousand furious things to say to Neal about an hour ago, but they're vanishing one by one. He's the father of her child, and all that other nonsense. And it's not like he didn't explain why he left her (he just happened to have kind of a shitty reason, in her opinion).

Neal runs his hands over his face nervously. Emma crosses her arms and watches him vent his anxieties.

"Emma," he says at last.

"Don't," she replies.

Emma stands up. She maintains what distance she can between herself and Neal.

"You have nothing to say to me," she says, clenching her fists.

"I think I have a lot of things to say to you," says Neal.

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" asks Emma. Her eyes start to water. "Are you gonna explain to me why you let freaking Pinocchio blackmail you into turning me in? Or how about why you came back even though you made it pretty damn clear you didn't want anything to do with me or your father? You keep coming and going whenever the hell you want, Neal, and that's not okay!"

"I'm sorry, Emma," says Neal.

He steps toward her, but her glare stops him in his tracks.

"You think that's good enough?" she says bitterly.

Neal tugs at his hair for a second. He considers his reply, and then he answers, "No. I know an apology's not good enough, not after what I did to you…and to Henry. No kid should have to grow up without his dad. Hell, I know that better than anyone. An apology's never gonna be good enough. But you know, I wanna _be_ good enough, if you'll let me."

"What does that mean?" she asks warily.

"Eleven years without you, Emma, it was rough. You were the first thing I thought about every morning, and all day, too. Not a day went by when I couldn't still picture your smile, hear your laugh. I missed you like crazy. And now that I know we've got a kid…"

"What are you saying?" asks Emma.

"That kid deserves a family," says Neal, gesturing toward Henry out on the fire escape, "We're his parents. We could try being a family, at least for him."

"He has a family," says Emma.

She's thinking of her parents, of how David took care of Henry while she and Mary Margaret were in the Enchanted Forest. She's thinking of how Mary Margaret gave Henry his book of fairy tales. She's thinking of how her parents held her after the curse was broken, when they finally knew she was their daughter. But Neal isn't thinking about all of that.

"I don't," he says.

Emma feels bad for him. The look on Neal's face is so vulnerable and needy, and she knows so well that feeling of needing a family more than anything else in the world. She realizes that it's been a long time since she had to feel that way.

"Let's say that I wanted you in mine and Henry's lives…" says Emma carefully, "Where would we live? What would we do? I've got parents, you know. They can't leave Storybrooke, and I can't abandon them. And then there's your dad, and…"

Neal steps toward Emma and envelopes her in a hug. Emma tucks her head into his neck, her muscles remembering before her brain how this works. It's been so long since Emma hugged Neal, but she remembers everything about this: how he smells, how we holds her, how his stubble rubs against her cheek. She allows herself a moment of weakness, but then she pulls away.

"We can't just ignore this stuff, Neal," she says softly, "Henry needs stability. He needs a real home. I can't just cart him between New York and Storybrooke. We've got to make choices and be adults about this. We're his parents, for God's sake."

"Shh, shh," says Neal, "We'll deal with all that later. For right now, though, you're okay with this? With me?"

Emma looks at Neal. Her eyes flicker back and forth between his, almost hoping he'll give her a reason not to trust him. But his gaze is earnest; he's hanging on Emma's response. She nods. His expression is disbelieving for a second, like he expects her to take it back. Then he's grinning like a madman. On instinct, he leans in to kiss Emma. But he stops himself.

"Um, uh," he stammers, trying to cover it up.

Emma smiles and leans back into the hug. She closes her eyes and tucks her head down into Neal's shoulder.

"We'll get there," whispers Neal. He says it so quietly that Emma wonders whether he was speaking to her or to himself.

There's a clatter at the window. Emma and Neal pull apart to see Henry climbing back into the apartment. When Henry sees his parents embracing, he smiles widely. Emma can suddenly see the resemblance between father and son.

"So, you two are okay?" Henry asks excitedly, "We can be a family now?"

Neal looks at Emma for permission. She smiles and nods. Neal steps forward and ruffles Henry's hair.

"Yeah, kid," he says, unknowingly borrowing Emma's nickname for Henry. "We're a family."


End file.
